


One Month, Two Days, Twenty Minutes

by LadyHammerlock



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Minor References to Suicide, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23093983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHammerlock/pseuds/LadyHammerlock
Summary: Sam’s new life began outside the gates of Capital Knot City.Set after the end of the game. Spoilers and DeadSam snuggles abound.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Deadman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	One Month, Two Days, Twenty Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a lot of feelings about Sam and Deadman. This was basically just an attempt to get a lot of my head-canons regarding the end of the game and Sam and Deadman's relationship in order. Also Lou is there, because the three of them are a very loving family, and you will never convince me otherwise.

Sam’s new life began outside the gates of Capital Knot City.

He was a little surprised at himself to be honest. He had been planning on leaving Bridges and the UCA and all the rest of it behind one way or another, or at least he had until Lou had come back to life. He had still contemplated it after; thought about just walking away and raising Lou in peace somewhere, with no Bridges and no UCA to bother them, but then he had realised that Deadman would have no way of knowing that Lou had survived, and that really didn’t seem fair after everything that the three of them had been through together.

And, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, the thought of not seeing Deadman again had been more than enough to give him pause all by itself. Perhaps things might have been different if Lou had really… well, if she hadn’t made it. If that had been the case then Sam wasn’t sure that he would have been able to look at Deadman without thinking of all that they had both lost, but now…

Fuck it. He was getting better at these things, wasn’t he? He could admit it to himself now, even if he wasn’t about to go saying the words out loud. He would have missed Deadman. He would have missed the others too; Heartman and Lockne and Mama and… well, he had a feeling Fragile would have found a way to keep in contact with him regardless. That woman was nothing if not resourceful, and stubborn.

The point was that as much as he would have missed all of the others, Deadman had somehow wormed his way into Sam’s heart a fair bit deeper than the others.

Sam’s cufflinks had been destroyed at the incinerator, which meant that he could no longer get back into the city automatically. Instead he found himself in a position that he hadn’t been in since he had first been roped into this whole mess; standing at the entrance to the city and asking to be let in, rather than just strolling straight through the barrier and letting the cufflinks and the city’s scanners do the rest.

He had been hoping that Nick Easton would be the one to answer his request for entry, or at least someone else who knew Sam by sight and who respected him enough that they might not immediately go blabbing about Sam’s arrival to the President if Sam asked nicely enough.

Instead Sam found himself looking at the chiralgram of a man that he’d never met before. The ID attached to the chiralgram announced him as ‘Jason Young’, a name that Sam had never even heard of before that moment.

Maybe this was better in a way. If it had been someone that he knew then he might have to explain what had happened and why he didn’t have his cufflinks anymore, and in truth, he wasn’t really looking forward to that.

“You don’t have any ID at all?” Young asked.

“Look, can you just go get Deadman, please?” Sam asked, attempting to comfort a squirming Lou as he did.

He hadn’t yet been able to find proper clothes for her. Her current makeshift blanket had started life as an old flannel shirt that the Ludens Fan had been kind enough to donate, along with some powdered milk, when Sam and Lou had shown up at his doorstep shortly after they had left the incinerator. It had worked well enough, but Sam knew that they would need proper clothing, and proper formula as soon as possible.

Now if only Capital Knot City would show them the same level of hospitability that an isolated prepper had been able to manage then he was sure the two of them would be fine.

“What should I tell him?” Young’s chiralgram asked Sam.

For a moment Sam considered telling the guy who he really was, but, on the off chance that Young _did_ believe him, it would lead to too many questions, and if he _didn’t_ , then well, it would probably just make him suspicious, and ruin any chance Sam had at actually getting into the city any time soon.

Damn it. Maybe he shouldn’t have burned those cufflinks, but at the time, without Lou, Sam really had been ready to walk away from it all.

Now he was just frustrated. There was a whole new life waiting for him, just on the other side of the checkpoint; so close, but still just out of his reach.

“Tell him that a friend is waiting for him at the entrance to the city,” Sam said. “Please.”

Deadman himself had said that Sam was the only person he had ever felt any sort of real connection to, and the only other people he might think of as ‘friends’ were also inside Capital Knot City. He and Deadman were definitely friends, right? Or at least, they were _something_. Deadman would know that it was Sam who was waiting for him. He had to.

It seemed to be enough for Capital Knot City’s newest protector. Young’s chiralgram blinked out of existence as he assumedly went to fetch Deadman.

God, Sam hoped that he would show up. Deadman would be able to let him into the city and would hopefully be able to smooth the way with Die-Hardman and the rest of Bridges.

But, perhaps more importantly than that, Sam missed him. It had only been two days since he had seen the other man, but he still missed him. Damn.

* * *

“It’s all right Lou,” Deadman said, running his hand over the little one’s pod and hoping that it would do something to calm her. “We’re going to find Sam. I promise. We’re not going to give up until we do.”

Lou frowned up at him and placed a hand on the wall of her pod.

“Sam will be back soon,” Deadman said, not sure whether he was trying to convince the BB or himself now. “He will.”

He realised that he was crying, and brought a hand up to his face to messily wipe away the tears, the other arm clutching Lou’s pod closely to his chest.

Lou let out another whimper and curled in on herself.

“Do you want me to take her for a bit?” Lockne and/or Mama offered from the other side of the room. For just a moment Deadman had forgotten that he was in the same room as the others.

“No,” Deadman replied. Lockne and Mama had been helping out a lot with Lou now that Sam was stuck on the Beach; taking care of her whenever Deadman needed a break, but at that moment he couldn’t think of anything worse than being separated from her. “I would rather hold on to her right now if that’s all right. After all, I did promise Sam that I would take care of her.”

And if she couldn’t have Sam as she so obviously wanted, then at least she could have him. He was a poor substitute, he knew, but at least Lou seemed to regard him as a friendly and familiar face.

“Didn’t I Lou?” Deadman said, running his hand over her pod. “We’ll wait for him to come back together.”

“Oh.” This time it was Fragile’s voice, and Deadman looked up to find her watching him with just a touch of pity in her eyes.

“You’re in love with him,” Fragile said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Suddenly all of the eyes in the room were on him. Well, all of them apart from Die-Hardman’s, who suddenly seemed very occupied with his cuff-links.

Deadman wasn’t sure what they expected him to say, but he knew he didn’t have it in him to deny the accusation. How could he when Fragile had just spoken the truth? He didn’t know how long he had been in love with Sam. It had been a slow, gentle thing that had snuck up on him without him realising it.

“Well,” he began, but for once finding the words getting stuck in his throat. He shrugged. “Let’s just focus on getting Sam back, shall we?”

* * *

Sam’s feelings for Deadman had developed slowly, sneaking up on him without him realising it until it was too late. When he’d first met the other man he had wanted nothing to do with him. He was too loud, too damned friendly, and way too fucking open with his feelings.

But then he had helped take care of Lou, and he had been one of the first people aside from Sam to see her as more than just a piece of equipment. And he had been so kind, in his own awkward, bumbling way, doing whatever he could to help out, even if it meant protecting Sam and putting himself in the line of fire. He had also done his best to make sure that Sam (and Lou) got an appropriate amount of rest, and took care of himself; something that Sam knew he was terrible at when left to his own devices.

By the time that Sam had realised he was starting to grow attached it was already too late. Deadman’s calls had already started to bring a faint smile to his face, and he had found himself looking forward to seeing the other man, even if it was only his chiralgram.

Sam hadn’t realized how completely fucked he was though, until he had fought that monstrous BT just outside of Capital Knot City, and Deadman’s excited voice had burst into life over the radio.

“I could kiss you, you sweet son of a bitch!”

The words had been enough to make Sam pause. He knew that it was just an expression; that Deadman was probably in no way planning to actually kiss Sam the next time he saw him, but still Sam hadn’t been able to stop himself from imagining what it might be like if Deadman did actually try to kiss him, and had come to the rather terrifying realisation that he would probably let him.

And damn; wasn’t that something? Sam knew that his aphenphosmphobia would probably make such a thing impossible, or at the very least, extremely unpleasant, but a part of him had hoped that Deadman would really try to kiss him when he arrived at the isolation ward, just so he could find out.

As he stood there in front of Capital Knot City, waiting for the other man to show, he wondered again if Deadman might greet him with a kiss.

Probably not, he decided.

Still, a man could dream.

* * *

Deadman watched the door close behind Sam and tried to pretend that his heart wasn’t breaking. He had shed more than a few tears when Lou’s vitals had first disappeared, but had made sure that they were done by the time he approached Sam. Sam would be devastated after all, and he would need Deadman to be strong.

Now that Sam was gone, little Lou with him, the tears were threatening to return, and Deadman felt like a black hole had opened up in his heart and was now threatening to swallow him whole.

There was the very real chance that he was never going to see Sam again. It was a choice that he had left in Sam’s hands. He only hoped that if this was going to be forever then it wouldn’t be because Sam had decided to follow Lou into the incinerator.

“Should I expect to see Sam again?”

The sound of Die-Hardman’s voice startled Deadman, and he turned around to find the new President approaching from the other end of the room. He wondered how much the other man had seen; whether he had borne witness to the embrace that he and Sam had shared. It was something that Deadman would cherish, despite the circumstances. He’d never been held like that before, and for whatever reason, the thought that someone else might have seen it made him more than a little uncomfortable.

“I do not know,” Deadman replied truthfully. “I left that choice in Sam’s hands.”

He waited for the President to object, watching the indecision pass over the other man’s face. It was strange being able to see the expressions on his face after only seeing the mask for so long. Without it Die-Hardman’s emotions were quite easy to read.

“I’m surprised you didn’t go with him,” Die-Hardman eventually said.

If Sam had asked Deadman to accompany him then things might have been different, but Sam hadn’t, and Deadman hadn’t expected him to. Hoped? Perhaps. But expected? Never.

“My place is here,” he said. “There is still a lot of work to be done.”

Die-Hardman looked almost sad for a moment, before clamping a hand down on Deadman’s shoulder.

“Go after him,” Die-Hardman prompted. “Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Deadman had no idea what mistake the President was talking about, but even the conviction and passion in the new President’s voice wasn’t enough to sway him. It was Sam’s choice whether he walked away from all of this; from Bridges and the UCA, and even from Deadman himself. Sam had earned the right to make that choice without having to consider Deadman’s feelings, or anyone else’s, on the matter.

“Thank you,” Deadman said. “But I don’t think that I can. It’s a long walk to the incinerator after all, and I am in nowhere near as good physical shape as Sam is.”

If Die-Hardman caught it for the excuse that it was, then at least he had the decency not to call Deadman out on it.

* * *

Sam went to check the time on his cufflinks, and immediately felt like an idiot when he remembered they weren’t there. He had no idea how long it had been since Young had left to grab Deadman. It felt like it had been forever, but wasn’t that always how it worked when you were forced to wait for something? If he thought seriously about it, then it felt like maybe twenty minutes had passed. It was hard to tell though.

After his spell on the Beach he probably should have gotten better at waiting. After all, time passed more slowly on the Beach, and in the outside world it had been a month. On the Beach it had simultaneously felt like no time at all had passed, and like aeons had. It had all stretched out to nothing; just an endless, empty nothing that held no meaning while he was alone, but felt like years.

And then they had all shown up to save him; Deadman and Heartman and Fragile and Mama and Die-Hardman.

He could still feel Deadman’s hand on his ankle when he thought about it; the warmth of another human being after so long alone imprinting on his skin in a way that, for once, had nothing to do with his aphenphosmphobia.

The long solitude had, if anything, made Sam less tolerant of long waits, especially when there was so much to both look forward to and dread on the other side of the wait.

He longed for the moment when Deadman would wrap a metaphorical hand around his ankle again and bring the waiting to an end.

He looked over towards the city for what had to be the tenth time in the last two minutes alone, and froze as he spotted a tiny black figure emerging from the distant buildings and slowly making its way towards Sam.

At first it was nothing but a vague silhouette of black against the slightly lighter colours of the old city, but as it grew closer, Sam was able to make out a wide stomach, black clothing and a red shirt, and as each detail solidified itself in Sam’s vision, he felt his heart coming back to life a little more.

* * *

Deadman couldn’t stop the wide grin that appeared on his face as soon as he realized who it was waiting for him at the city entrance. It had been almost two days to the hour since Sam had left, and Deadman had started to fear that he really had seen Sam for the last time.

There was no mistaking the man standing in front of him, a sly grin making itself known through the narrowing of Sam’s eyes more than his barely upturned mouth.

“Hi,” Sam said as Deadman drew closer.

That was all Deadman needed.

“Sam!” he cried out, running towards the other man with the intent of wrapping him up in a big, warm hug.

Sam stepped back before he could however, putting a hand up and leaving Deadman standing there with his arms wide open, feeling more than a little foolish.

He tried not to feel too hurt. After all, Sam had only recently gotten over his aphenphosmphobia.

But then Sam took another step back and opened up the front of his coat, and there, tucked up against his chest and wrapped up in little more than an old rag, was Lou, alive and well and out of her pod.

Sam moved her over to his left arm and then gestured towards Deadman with his right.

“Let’s try that again,” he said, gesturing for Deadman to come closer.

This time there was nothing to stop him from wrapping both arms around Sam and Lou and holding them close.

* * *

Sam flung one arm around Deadman’s shoulder and leaned into the hug as much as he could while still holding Lou. His daughter cooed and babbled excitedly, squirming against the blanket and trying to reach out towards Deadman.

Sam was reluctant to let the other man go. It felt so right being wrapped up in Deadman’s arms; so warm and safe. Sam knew better than anyone the effects that touch starvation could have on a person, but it wasn’t until now, when he was able to feel what he had been missing out on, that he realised how badly he had needed it.

Between the small, fragile weight of Lou in his arm, and the larger warmth of Deadman wrapped around him, the sensation was almost overwhelming, and he felt himself shudder, even as he pressed further into the embrace.

He took a deep breath, finding his nose filling with a smell that he was starting to recognise as distinctly Deadman’s; a smell that immediately relaxed him, before forcing himself to pull back from the hug, afraid that if he didn’t then he might be tempted to stay in Deadman’s arms forever.

The blanket-covered bundle in Sam’s arms let out a loud ‘coo’ and squirmed again. One of Lou’s arms soon emerged from the cocoon of soft fabrics that Sam had wrapped her in, and Sam turned her around so that she and Deadman could get a good look at one another.

“Oh… my dear Sam,” Deadman said, his hands reaching out as though he wanted to grab Lou and hold her close. Sam knew the feeling, and passed the small, squirming child over happily.

“Our little Lou survived?” Deadman said as he stared down at the bundle in his arms. Lou let out a loud, happy series of noises and reached up her tiny hands towards Deadman’s face.

“She’s happy to see you,” Sam said, feeling his heart glow at the sight of the two of them.

“Not as happy as I am to see her alive and well,” Deadman said, before reaching down and very gently poking her on the nose with one gloved finger.

“But Sam, you’re risking a lot bringing her here. The executive order was to dispose of her. If they find out that she’s not only alive but that you’ve taken her out of her pod…”

“That was before. She’s alive now. Besides, if Die-Hardman or anyone from Bridges tries to tell me that I should have ‘disposed’ of her, then I’ll just remind them of exactly how much I know about the new President’s past.”

“Blackmail Sam?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Deadman sighed, and took off his glasses for a moment, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Well, with any luck that won’t be necessary,” he said. “In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if Die-Hardman takes our side in this.”

“What? Really?”

“Well. I suspect that he will not be willing to let the two of us walk without at least considering the alternatives.”

“The two of us?”

Deadman’s attention was firmly on Lou, who he was now rocking gently in his arms, but he nodded slowly regardless.

“Well, I suppose I should say the three of us, shouldn’t I? We wouldn’t want to leave little Lou out of the equation.”

Lou let out a loud, happy squeal and reached her hands up towards Deadman as he continued to gently rock her.

“Deadman… you…”

“If your decision is to return to Bridges with Lou then I will do everything in my power to make sure such a thing is made possible,” Deadman said as he lifted Lou up with one hand under each of her tiny arms, his hands large enough in comparison that they could wrap completely around Lou’s tiny torso. Lou let out more laughter and happy babbling in response, her little legs squirming so hard that they might have threatened to kick her makeshift blanket off completely if Deadman’s hands hadn’t been holding it firmly in place.

Sam didn’t know what he could possibly say in response to something like that. He wasn’t used to having someone in his corner; wasn’t used to feeling like someone was his… his anything, at least since Lucy had died, and now he had a daughter and a… well… a Deadman, whatever that meant.

All he could do was throw his arms around Deadman’s side, careful not to dislodge Lou as he leaned his head against Deadman’s shoulder and tried to feel like his whole world wasn’t slowly turning sideways.

* * *

In the end Die-Hardman had been quite happy to welcome Sam back into the fold. Sam had been adamant that he wasn’t going to be pulled into politics, or anything larger than doing the occasional delivery. He wanted a quiet life, god damn it, and if Bridges wouldn’t give him that then he would have absolutely no problem walking away from it all.

He and Deadman were both surprised when Die-Hardman agreed without so much as a single objection.

“But the executive order…” Sam said, not trusting anything that was as easy as this had been so far.

“What executive order?” Die-Hardman asked, and Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being deliberately obtuse. “You mean the one that you definitely followed? After all, if anyone was to check the logs at the incinerator, they would see that you disposed of your BB, as ordered, correct? I certainly don’t see a BB anywhere on your person right now.”

Sam was making absolutely no attempt to hide Lou. In fact, she was currently sitting right there in his arms, staring up at Die-Hardman with a look of such stern concentration on her face that Sam couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

“Incidentally, cute kid you two,” Die-Hardman said, nodding directly at Lou. “Congratulations.”

And with that Die-Hardman was gone, leaving the three of them standing alone in the President’s office and wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

On his very first night back with Bridges, Sam found himself unable to sleep. The nightmares had disappeared, so by rights it should have been easier to relax, not harder. Lou had been relatively quiet too, only waking up once to demand food and attention. As Sam had already been awake he hadn’t even been too bothered by it.

There was something that _was_ bothering him though; something that had made it ridiculously hard for him to settle.

He was sleeping in the same building as Deadman. In fact, it would take him less than a minute to cross the hallway and make his way to Deadman’s rooms.

He could do it too, he realised, as he lay there staring up at the ceiling. He could walk right over there to Deadman’s quarters and… And then what?

It would involve Deadman obviously, but beyond that Sam wasn’t even sure what he was hoping to accomplish.

Before he knew what he was doing, he found that his feet had taken him to Deadman’s rooms, seemingly without his brain’s permission. He stood there for a moment, staring at the door to Deadman’s room and wondering whether he should knock, when the door opened up by itself.

“Welcome, Sam Porter Bridges,” the door announced, in the same neutral voice that Sam had gotten used to hearing in Distro Centres all over the country.

Sam had already been assigned new cufflinks; ones that he had put on voluntarily this time; so it was less surprising that the door recognised him, and more that Deadman had apparently given Sam full authorization to access Deadman’s rooms whenever he liked. Sam wondered how long he’d had those privileges without even realising it.

He stepped into Deadman’s rooms, still not entirely sure what he was doing there. He had seen Deadman’s quarters before, in the weeks between his returning from the Beach and the coronation, but it was different being here at night, more so while he was uninvited, and essentially trespassing.

Deadman’s rooms were much larger than Sam’s. It made sense in a way. Deadman lived in Capital Knot City full time, and had been living there since before Sam had met him. The rooms Sam was used to staying in had only even been meant as temporary accommodation.

There was a spacious sitting area, with the largest, most comfortable looking sofa Sam had ever seen and shelves full of books and films and other assorted paraphernalia.

Past that there was a modest kitchen, and then past that, Deadman’s bedroom.

Sam found himself hesitating at the entrance to the bedroom for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of the blanket covered mound in Deadman’s bed. He was struck, not for the first time, by the sheer size of the thing. It was easily big enough for two, even when one of those two was Deadman. Sam’s hands twisted uselessly at his sides, eager to reach out and grab something that he wasn’t even sure he had a name for.

He crept closer to the bed, trying not to wake Deadman. He could see the other man’s sleeping face now; all scrunched up because he was sleeping on his side, one arm flung across the width of the bed as though he was reaching out towards Sam. It was still strange to see him without his glasses, and Sam found himself seized by the unreasonably strong impulse to reach out and run his fingers over the lines around the other man’s eyes.

“Come on Sam,” he muttered under his breath. “What the hell are you doing?”

He wasn’t even sure what he had hoped to achieve; just that he had desperately needed to see Deadman all of a sudden, and the other man had already been right there, just across the hallway. It had been an easy distance to cross. The less than two feet that lay between them now however seemed completely insurmountable.

Deadman stirred in his sleep, his mouth uttering wordless sounds as he did. The hand that had been reaching out towards Sam twitched, his fingers clutching at the mattress for a moment.

Sam kneeled down by the side of the bed, crossing his arms on the mattress and just watching Deadman sleep. He was strangely adorable like this, and when another bout of restlessness caused Deadman’s nose to scrunch up just so, Sam felt his heart and stomach twist oddly inside of him.

Deadman’s eyes fluttered open slowly, causing Sam to freeze in place.

“Sam?” the other man asked, blinking a few times as he no doubt tried to work out why Sam was even in his room, let alone being an absolute creep and staring at him while he slept. Sam stood back up, putting a slightly more appropriate amount of distance between them.

“What is it?” Deadman asked as he rather slowly and drowsily sat up in bed. The blankets fell off his shoulders to reveal that he was wearing a set of dark red button-up pyjamas. The fabric looked soft, and Sam found himself wanting to touch; to twist the dark red fabric in his fingers, and find out what was softer; the pyjamas or Deadman himself.

“Are you all right?” Deadman asked, groping for the glasses that sat on the bedside table nearby. “Is Lou?”

That thought seemed to wake Deadman right up. He seemed ready to charge straight over to Sam’s room, and he might have if Sam hadn’t reassured him.

“Lou’s fine,” he said.

“Then what…?”

Sam wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. He didn’t even have a good reason for being in Deadman’s quarters in the first place.

Sam saw Deadman sigh more than he heard it; his shoulders rising then falling as he sat on the side of the bed. Sam stood there, feeling more than a little awkward, his hands clenching uselessly at his side.

Deadman shuffled over on the bed and patted an empty space next to him, and Sam found himself immensely grateful for the invitation.

Even after Sam sat down it was a while before either of them spoke, and of course it was Deadman who broke the silence.

“So if Lou is fine is it you that is not fine then? Come now Sam; there must be something I can help with if you’ve come to see me like this.”

Sam stared down at his hands, clasped tightly in front of him, and tried to will the right words to come. He couldn’t tell Deadman the truth; couldn’t admit that he had missed the other man so suddenly and so fiercely that it had brought him to Deadman’s quarters in the middle of the night.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Sam revealed. That part was true enough at least.

“Oh?” Deadman exclaimed. “Nightmares?”

“No. Just…”

Just a mind that was too active and a heart that couldn’t seem to work out what it wanted, except that it involved Deadman somehow.

Deadman let out a thoughtful hum that sounded far more certain than Sam felt.

“Well, clearly you thought there was something I could do to help if you came to me,” Deadman said.

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam conceded.

Sam didn’t know whether it would help or just make matters worse, but he did know that he wanted to touch Deadman. It felt like now that it was something that he knew he could have, that he couldn’t get enough of it; like he was already addicted in some way.

“Well then, just tell me what I can do for you then,” Deadman said, as helpful and friendly as he always was, and that just made everything worse, because it made Sam like him even more…

“I want…”

Why was it so fucking hard to find the words?

Maybe he didn’t need words though. He let himself relax, shuffling closer to Deadman and leaning against him, so that his side pressed against Deadman’s own. It was nice, feeling the other man’s warmth pressing against him. Perhaps it wasn’t enough, but it was a good start.

One of them let out a low, contented sigh, and Sam realised with some embarrassment that the noise had come from his own throat. He turned a little, nuzzling his head into Deadman’s shoulder as though he might be able to bury any embarrassment in the other man’s skin.

“Oh,” Deadman finally said, the single syllable breathed out so softly that it felt as though Deadman was afraid of breaking whatever delicate thing had begun to grow between them. ‘Oh’. That simple. As though he understood exactly what Sam was asking for when even Sam didn’t know how to put it into words.

“Sam,” Deadman began, his voice barely more than a whisper and yet still too loud in the fragile peace that was growing between them. “Would you like to stay here for the night?”

Sam couldn’t bring himself to answer, so instead he just nodded, knowing that the other man would feel the action, even if he couldn’t see it.

He pressed himself more firmly against Deadman’s side, his hand reaching out blindly to grab Deadman’s hand and hold it in his own. Deadman had taken his gloves off to sleep, and when Sam entwined their fingers together he could feel the other man’s pulse, pounding far too hard and too quickly throughout his veins. He wondered if that meant that Deadman felt just as nervous and unsure about this whole thing as Sam did. He had already told Sam that he had never felt connected to anyone until Sam came along. Did that mean that he had never…?

Sam swallowed nervously. Deadman had always seemed more confident than Sam when it came to this sort of thing; showing affection and being close to people and stuff. Sam hoped that would continue to be the case, otherwise it would mean that neither of them had any idea at all what they were doing. Just the two of them, stumbling through the dark together and hoping for the best.

Oh well. It would have to be enough. Sam had felt like he was stumbling through the dark and hoping for the best for most of his life; why should this… whatever this was, with Deadman, be any different?

Before Sam could overthink things any more than he already had, Deadman was gently guiding him to lie down on the bed beside him. Sam let the other man move him how he would, until the two of them were just lying there, side by side on the bed, their hands still entwined tightly with one another.

Sam just lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and trying to get his breathing and his heartbeat back under control. Deadman was now lying between him and the room’s exit; effectively trapping him in the bed, or perhaps protecting him from anything that might enter the room? Either way it didn’t worry Sam as much as it once would have.

He ran his fingers slowly over Deadman’s skin, tracing the pattern of scars that ran over the back of Deadman’s hand, following one around to his palm and then following it up over his wrist and under the fabric of his sleeve.

He heard Deadman’s breath catch in his throat, and felt the other man go completely still beneath his touch.

“Sam…” Deadman whispered, and Sam couldn’t for the life of him work out whether that meant ‘Sam, please stop’ or ‘Sam, that’s very nice’ or something else entirely. What he did know was that this; the two of them lying on their backs beside one another; it wasn’t going to work. He pulled his hand away from Deadman’s own and took a deep breath.

“Roll over,” Sam prompted, surprising himself with his own boldness.

“Sam? What are you…?”

“Roll over onto your side,” Sam prompted. “Facing away from me.”

He could see the confusion on Deadman’s face, or at least he could for the few seconds it took for Deadman to decide that he was just going to go along with whatever it was that Sam was planning.

Sam let Deadman settle and get comfortable, and then shuffled closer to the larger man, wrapping his arms around his stomach and pressing his front against Deadman’s back. The two of them wriggled and squirmed until they were both in something approaching a comfortable position.

Sam waited until Deadman had stopped moving around, before pressing his face into the space between the other man’s neck and shoulder. He could feel the other man’s pulse there too; still pounding far too hard. He waited for Deadman to object or suggest a change of position, but no objections came.

Sam nuzzled into Deadman’s shoulder, breathing in the other man’s scent as deeply as he could and letting it relax him. It was starting to smell a lot like home.

Soon both of their heartbeats settled, and Sam realised that this; the feeling of the other man; so soft and warm in his arms, was exactly what he had needed. He wondered whether Deadman would be opposed to Sam sleeping in his quarters on a more permanent basis. There was enough space in there that he could move Lou in as well; set up a crib in one of the corners. He would have to bring up the idea in the morning.

Sam wasn’t sure whether it was because he was apparently feeling very daring that evening, or just because he was half-asleep and not thinking clearly, but he took a moment to press a gentle kiss onto Deadman’s neck before snuggling back in. The only reaction from Deadman was a pleased sounding ‘hmm’, which probably meant that it was okay, so Sam dared one more kiss before settling in to sleep.

He fell asleep with his arms wrapped around Deadman and his face pressed into the other man’s shoulder. It had been a very, very long time since he had felt so at ease.

* * *

The night that Sam returned to Capital Knot City, Deadman had one of the sweetest dreams of his life. Or at least he did until he woke up the next morning, Sam’s arms still wrapped around him, and realised that it hadn’t been a dream at all.

He turned his head as much as he dared and discovered Sam’s face was still pressed into the curve of his shoulder. Deadman smiled at the sight, his heart feeling like it was glowing inside of his chest, before turning back around and letting himself fall back to sleep.


End file.
